


all is calm, all is bright

by LilyRosePotter



Category: Crooked Media RPF
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, Fluff, Multi, Snowed In, sappily and disgustingly in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:44:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21741292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyRosePotter/pseuds/LilyRosePotter
Summary: When their Christmas Eve flight home is cancelled, Jon storms off to work. Emily and Tommy decide a holiday intervention is in order.
Relationships: Emily Black Favreau/Jon Favreau/Tommy Vietor
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29
Collections: Crooked Secret Santa 2019





	all is calm, all is bright

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hopefor46](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopefor46/gifts).

“Your American Airlines flight, number 2160, has been cancelled due to weather conditions beyond our control,” Tommy reads from his phone with a scowl. “Nice of them to tell us in a timely fashion.”

The weather report has been warning of a giant storm blanketing the East Coast for a week. Emily’s been waiting for this email, but when they’d gotten all their stuff ready to go to the airport, she’d hoped against hope they might beat the cancellations and delays, even though they can already see a few inches accumulation on the sidewalk.

Jon drops his laptop bag on top of his suitcase with a huff. “Fuck this.”

“Jon,” Emily sighs. “We might be able to get a new one.”

Jon shakes his head, tersely. “Not today. We’ll miss Christmas Eve mass. And everyone else who’s been delayed will be trying too. It’s not worth it anyway, for two days.”

“It kind of is,” Tommy argues, “We haven’t been home in months. I’ll call.”

He starts tapping his phone, lifting it to his ear, but before he can even bitch about the hold music, Jon pushes past him to the closet.

“I’m gonna go to work,” Jon grabs his coat. “At least I can get a head start on the State of the Union while everyone’s off celebrating.”

“Jon-” Emily reaches for his arm, but he’s already pushing the door open and disappearing into the wind.

“Fuck,” Tommy shakes his head, phone still pressed uselessly to his ear. “He really needed to get _out_ of work, not the opposite.”

Emily nods slowly. They thought Jon would get _less_ stressed, after the reelect. But it’s like each ticking day towards March, towards freedom and the next stage of their lives, makes him retreat into his miserable cubicle and away from Emily and Tommy.

“He’s not gonna make it through January without a nervous breakdown at this rate,” Emily sighs. “Are you on hold?”

“Yeah,” Tommy frowns, “but they’re playing-” he clicks his phone to speaker and a robotic voice echoes out:

“If you’re calling in reference to a flight impacted by the storm on the East Coast, we appreciate your patience. While we are working our fastest to rebook all passengers, we are unlikely to be able to accomodate travel for the next three days due to the weather conditions.”

Fuck. There’s that then.

“Christmas in DC?” Emily tries hopefully.

Tommy looks around their apartment, strewn with shirts and socks packed and then discarded, empty take out containers, dozens of assorted paper detritus, matching novelty light-up ties Lovett brought Jon and Tommy when he visited last month, and the solitary strand of Christmas lights Emily tacked to the wall before Jon’s stomping and glowering had convinced her to shove the sad box of decorations collected from gift exchanges, the college bookstore, and her mom’s hand me downs back into the closet.

“So we have some work to do,” Emily shrugs. “Jon won’t be home until at least eight, we’ve got-” she checks her phone, “ten hours to make this a Christmas wonderland. We can call Lil and get some recipes on our walk to the tree lot.”

Tommy shakes his head fondly and hangs up on the airline recording to tug Emily into a kiss, “Have I mentioned lately that I love you?”

“Never enough,” Emily grins up at him, then pulls back to grab their coats. “Now get moving, you’ve got a tree to chop down.”

“Pretty sure it’s already cut,” Tommy snorts.

“More manly if you go with my vision,” Emily winks, opening the door. “You’re gonna haul it back here, anyway.”

* * *

Emily is wrist deep in cookie dough, humming along to the Muppets Christmas album that was Tommy’s inexplicable pick at Target, while Tommy curses at the stove, when the front door swings open.

Jon trudges in, head down and shoulders drooping, dripping snow everywhere as he shrugs off his coat and kicks off the shoes that must be soaked through since he left his damn snow boots in his suitcase to storm out during his tantrum.

He makes it halfway through the living room in a truly impressive display of ignoring every single one of his senses before his head snaps up and his eyes go wide.

“Are you _baking_?”

“I bake,” Emily frowns at him. “I’ve been known to bake.”

“Rarely,” Tommy taps her hip gently. “We didn’t expect you yet Jon.”

“Lew did the rounds and forced me to leave,” Jon scrunches his nose. He still looks angry, but he’s turning, slowly, and taking in the living room.

The only trees left on the lot had been scraggly and lopsided; closer to Charlie Brown’s tree than the full, eight-foot masterpieces they’d cut down at the farm just outside city limits when Emily was a kid. Target had been pretty picked over, but they’d scraped together some mismatched sets of lights and a lot of character branded ornaments to go with the hodgepodge that was living in the closet.

Tommy had disappeared into the home section and surfaced with far too many throw pillows and blankets and Emily found all three of them matching _Snuggle Season_ mugs for the hot chocolate packets laid out to watch _It’s a Wonderful Life_ with later.

“How did you-” Jon shakes his head a little. “This is amazing, guys.”

Emily washes her hands quickly, needing to have her hands on him, immediately.

Jon is still frozen in the center of the room when she pulls him down into a kiss, whispering “Merry Christmas,” against his lips.

Jon pulls her closer, hands shaking. “_Em_.”

Tommy beams, audibly, behind her. “We saved the star for you to put on top.”

Jon sniffs a little and keeps Emily tucked into his side as he reaches for the tinsel star that his mom had sent back with them last year, with a soft _your grandmother would have wanted you to have it_.

Jon stretches for the top branch, securing the star with careful fingers and misty eyes. Tommy steps close behind them, sliding one hand onto Jon’s waist and the other onto Emily’s.

“The pasta kinda stuck to the pan,” Tommy apologizes awkwardly. “But I think if we put enough marinara on it, it’ll still taste good. And even I can’t fuck up heating frozen broccoli.”

“Red and green dinner,” Jon marvels softly.

“We called your mom,” Emily kisses his five-o’clock shadow lined jaw. “The cookies are peanut butter kisses.”

Jon leans into her, blinking back tears. “You guys did all this for me?”

“Of course,” Tommy kisses the back of Jon’s neck gently. “We couldn’t get you home for Christmas, but we could bring some of Christmas at home to you.”

“I love you so much,” Jon whispers, voice a little raspy. “Both of you.”

“We love you too,” Emily wipes a tear off his cheek. “Now come help Tommy set the table while I try to save the pasta.”

* * *

Christmas Eve services were always a bit of a mystery to Emily.

When she was a kid, they were an obstacle to sugar cookies and new pajamas and lying awake with Abby, giggling and waiting for Santa. Her parents were pretty clear that going to church was something you did to make Grandma happy, even skipping it a year when they weren’t with her.

As college students, Emily and Abby even snuck a flask into the service once. Mom definitely knew, but since they weren’t grounded for life by the end of the night, she’s pretty sure they snuck under her father’s watchful eye.

Emily’s never paid more than the required amount of attention to the prayers or to the hymns that haven’t made it into the popular canon. She’s mostly rolled her eyes, for as long as she can remember, at any kind of pageant where children played animals that definitely were not present in Israel during biblical times.

But tonight, walking through the silent, snow filled streets that are normally bustling, even at eleven thirty, arm in arm with her boys, Emily thinks she understands why this night is so sacred to so many people.

Sitting in the pew with Tommy’s hand on her knee and Jon’s soft voice whispering long memorized Latin in her ear, Emily feels the peace of a thousand-year old institution wash around her, leaving out all the parts of the institution that would frown on the very loves of her life.

As the candlelight passes through the rows, lighting the faces of the priests, of the strangers around the room, of Jon, then Tommy beside her, the candles warm on Emily’s cheeks, she feels blessed and lucky and hopeful.

The last strains of the organ playing _Silent Night_ echo behind them as they file out into the street, separating from the indistinguishable body of the late night vigil.

Jon stops in the middle of the street when they’re halfway home, tugging on Emily and Tommy’s hands to stop them with him.

“What’s up?” Tommy turns to face him, bringing them into a circle in the snow.

Emily follows Jon’s gaze between the rooftops to the Washington Monument, just poking above the treeline, the edge of the Capitol Rotunda behind it.

“Thank you,” Jon squeezes their hands tightly.

“For what?” Emily tips her head. “You already thanked us for dinner.” With some oral sex that would have gotten them kicked straight back out the door of the church, if the priest only knew.

Jon shakes his head, eyes drifting up again. “I’ve been so worried, the past few months. About everything that comes next, about what we’re leaving behind, about where we go from here.”

“Jon,” Tommy says softly.

“I should have talked to you, I know,” Jon twists his lips. “I really needed this, even though I thought I needed that plane ride. I just need you two, wherever we go, whatever we do.”

“You’ve got us,” Emily pushes up to kiss him, “always and forever.”

“Through blizzards or the desert,” Tommy pushes close to them, eyes wide and fond and earnest.

“Thank you,” Jon says again, soft and wondering and sweet.

“All yours,” Emily holds him tight.

“Next year maybe Christmas in Hawaii?” Tommy traces Jon’s cheek with a gloved hand. “White Christmases are overrated.”

“I dunno,” Jon shrugs, as he pulls back from them and ducks down quickly. “There’s some benefits.” He lobs a snowball at Tommy’s head so suddenly that Emily shrieks in surprise.

“You little _sneak_!” Tommy grabs his own handful. “Though we were having this sincere moment!”

Their peals of laughter echo through the street the whole way home.


End file.
